Sons of the Red Star: Engineer
by WYSIWYG
Summary: A day in the life of a Soviet engineer. More interesting than it sounds!!!


Sons of the Red Star

Sons of the Red Star 

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**Engineer**

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Disclaimer: Westwood owns all things Command and Conquer. This story is set in C&C Red Alert 2. The story of a Soviet engineer. Enjoy!!

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__My friends often asked me why I became an engineer. They tell me that I should be a foot soldier in the army, fighting gloriously, willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for the Motherland. Others say I could be a tank commander, controlling one of the most powerful weapon systems in the world, watching the enemy fall beneath my tracks. I cannot say why I became an engineer, it just seemed to be the best option.

I grew up on war stories. My father fought in the first Great War, he was a tank commander himself, fighting in the thirteenth Armoured Division. I can remember the news broadcasts well. I heard great stories of their conquests. Stalin had us to believe we were destined to win, but he lied to us. I never forgot the day my father returned home, depressed, disillusioned, defeated. He had been so sure of winning, and he never recovered. He had seen too many of his friends die, all in vain. He became mad, a recluse, he used to start shouting and hitting himself hard. He blamed himself for the defeat, like so many others. He loved his country, and to see it occupied by invaders drove him over the edge. He committed suicide within six months, and my mother died within the same year of a broken heart.

My younger brother and I went to live with my father's sister and her husband on their farm in the Ukraine. I loved it there. In the summer, the long grass made a perfect place for games of hide-and-seek with my friends from the nearby village. In the winter, a nearby stream froze over, giving us a lovely little ice-skating track. When Romanov was installed as leader, and the invaders left, I felt that maybe things were going to be alright again. On the farm, I soon became proficient at fixing broken down machinery and repairing buildings. I was so good that many of the villagers gave me a few roubles to help mend a few things. 

And I suppose it was natural that when the Red Army began recruiting again, I would join up and become an engineer. My aunt, uncle, and my brother were so proud when I returned home in my army uniform. The day they claimed I became a man. To be honest, it is a lot better being an engineer than a soldier. A soldier is a soldier, to any commander, they come and go, they have all the importance of ants. But engineers, oh no, we're valuable, we're clever, we get better quarters, better food, and very rarely are in combat. We even get an escort if we do have to fight. So, maybe that's why I became an engineer. 

Plus there was always the fact I never really liked killing people, even if I had to. I like to make things, to fix them, not to destroy them, and that why I like my work. This is my niche in the great Soviet war machine. Anyway, I trained at the famous Engineering School in Kiev, graduating at the top of the class in my unit. It seemed I had it made. I was given the command of a platoon of engineers in the 6th Support Battalion. 

When the war started, we thankfully discovered we weren't going to be in the first attack wave. We were landed a week later, in the bay of San Francisco itself. We were moved about thirty miles north to an old American training camp. Only a couple of power plants had been left standing. Our army had cleared out a few days beforehand, and had only left a few base guards behind to protect the base from any American stragglers. That was five days ago.

Soon enough, however, an MCV came trundling up the road. When it had arrived, it was immediately deployed, and began producing its pre fabricated kits with which we got a move on in setting up. A large amount of Ore had been discovered nearby, and so we were asked to set a refinery base. After three days of hard labour, we managed to assemble four refineries, along with a considerable amount of tesla power plants and numerous base defences. We were also able to get the two American power plants online, helping to boost our power, as well as giving me an interesting insight into allied technology.

Their power plant was very well constructed, I found. They were able to produce fifty percent more power than our reactors were capable of, whilst occupying only two thirds of the space. Another thing that impressed me was the building's pleasing aesthetics, whilst actually maintaining structural integrity to an extent that they can sustain a considerable amount of damage. Personally, I don't hate Americans, even when they did help the Europeans overthrow us and occupy our country. But I have to go along with the flow of the Soviet philosophy, and so I guess I have to detest them like the devil himself.

Today was a welcome relief from the past few days. We had finally finished off the base, with only one squad left working on the last Flak cannon. The rest of us sit on the grass in front of the radar station at the top of the hill. The base is built on a hillside, with the radar, barracks, and power plants at the top, and the refineries at the bottom. A Soviet Flag billows out in the gentle breeze on its flagpole at the hill's peak. A few cold beers and an old radio help while away the long hours. The radio can only pick up American stations, but the music is good, and the propaganda rubbish their newsreaders blurt out is very entertaining. We watch Kirovs float lazily across the sky. It amazes us how they survive at all, but we have control of the skies, and they can go about blowing the crap out of the Americans with out any hassle. Sounds of far off battles reach our ears as we drink and talk. They came from the east of us. They steadily grow quieter, and eventually stop. The rest of the guys raise a cheer for Mother Russia, I merely raise my bottle, as I'm too tired to make much noise.

A familiar rumble disturbed the quiet air. Some of the men looked uneasy. I instantly recognised them as Harrier engines, as a soldier ran out of the radar station to confirm my suspicions. I order my platoon to take cover. However, I do not follow them, something keeps me here, rooted to the spot. Some morbid curiosity is awoken in my mind, I had never seen combat, I had to see what it was like, see if it was what everyone said it was. Frantic flak troopers yell at me to take cover as they loaded their weapons, but I cannot hear their screams. They gave up, not prepared to be caught off guard because of this idiot.

Then I see them. Two, no, three, four now. Any more? No, just four, flying straight towards me. I stare back at them, unblinking, not moving one muscle in my body. They come closer, and then…

Boom, the bases' flak cannons open up, and fire everything they have at the approaching attackers. The sky turns black as the shells burst, showering the air with invisible but deadly shrapnel. The Harriers remain undaunted, flying through the black clouds with impunity. Then one of them explodes, just completely goes off like a child's firecracker. The plane disintegrates almost immediately, glowing bits of debris falling over an abandoned village about a mile from the base. Then the flak troopers themselves get to work, firing round after round at their airborne nemesis. 

Then it's the Harriers turn. They fire their missiles at the power plants, trying to silence the guns below. The missiles fly off their racks, leaving trails of smoke as they speed to their targets. Only two hit, but they bought down both of the old American power plants. The Flak cannons go dead. Now, it's my turn.

I run to the bomb shelter, and order three engineers to follow me. I run over to one of the power plants. I know one will bring the power back on, so I decide to concentrate everyone's efforts into getting one online , and then deal with the other. Another Harrier is hit. Black smoke pours from its engine as it descends. The pilot ejects, his white and red shoot opening like an exploding flag over our heads. A second later we hear a dull thud, followed by an explosive roar.

I lead our team into the control room. This is a semicircular room, which encloses the reactor. Two of the men (Vaskic and Dimitrov), I sent to check the reactor control panel. The other guy, a young lad from Moscow, I sent to check for fires in the power distribution coils. I myself checked the power grid display, checking to see whether the power lines were down. Thankfully, they were not, and Dimitrov yelled that the problem was in the reactor coolers. I grabbed my toolkit, and crawl through the hatch into the reactor itself. 

It is hot in there, but it does not bother me. I hear another set of explosions as the Harriers fire again, followed by the shouts of the base guards. I continue on. I found the damaged coolant tank. Luckily there is an auxiliary tank below it, and it was relatively intake. As the sunlight poured through a three metre wide hole in the roof, I worked frantically, trying to get the valves open. After much struggling, I break the seals and the coolant flows to the reactor core. I then crawled out back into the control room, to be greeted by a cheer from my men. I silence them at once, celebrations can come later. 

A new sound comes to my ears. Not the flak cannons coming back online, but something else, a gentle purring. Engines? Yes, but were they American or Soviet ? I order my men to remain here whilst I go and look outside. I rushed out the reinforced door and out onto the base. Then I saw them, coming up the hill from the refineries. American Grizzlies, a dozen or so, supported by a hundred G.I's. My heart leaps into my throat as I watch them. Then they fire. Their shells fly by me as I hit the ground. I cover myself as there is huge explosion behind me. I look around as I get up, and see the power plant has been levelled into the ground. No one inside could have survived. I feel numb, I feel…_frightened_. Dead, my men were dead, I couldn't imagine what would have happened had I stayed. I'm scared, I'm an engineer, and I don't fight!! I don't do stuff like this. Holy Mother, What should I do?

I feel the adrenaline pump through my veins. I have to do something, but what? Go back to your training, I think to myself, what do you do in this situation? Get a gun, get something to defend yourself with, and fight, fight with all your might for the glory of the Motherland. Not a bad idea, I think, as I look around. I see a soldier lying down at the side of a wrecked harvester. I couldn't tell whose side he was, his body was covered in spilt ore and mud. I ran over as fast as I could. I hear the bullets whiz around me, see the little puffs of earth shooting up in front of me, and feel the heat as a couple of them get a bit too close. I get to body, and find myself looking into the eyes of a fallen comrade. 

I nearly puke up in revulsion. His eyes were opened, staring blankly into the sky, his mouth ajar, he died screaming, probably crying for a lost home, a bereaved family. I feel something cold and sticky beneath my hands. Blood, dark, scarlet, cold blood. I throw myself off him. I struggle to breath as I wipe the offensive slime off my fingers. I look and feel around for his weapon. I find it flung far from his body, an old AK-47. I check the magazine and find that he hasn't fired a shot. I reload the clip and look back at the dead conscript. As I stare at his lifeless body, I vow vengeance, in the name of the mother or will cry tomorrow, the children who will never see their father return. 

I sneak a look around the wreck of the ore harvester. The Americans are still pushing up the hill, one of the Grizzly's lies smoking and turret-less, and the others continue their rampage of death and destruction. Another round from their cannons destroys the radar station, I watch in horror as the great dish collapses to the ground. The I spot a group of four G.I's moving up the other side of the hill. They don't see me as I aim my weapon. I get the back of the lead trooper in my sight. 

I empty the whole magazine into them. My heart racing, my gaze fixated as I watch their bodies jerk violently as each bullet rips into their flesh. I still hold down the trigger after the clip has emptied. The guns shakes violently in my hands, I can't let go. I watch their bodies fall with a light thud into the mud. They lie still, faces down. I laugh, so this is killing!! It's so simple, so efficient, I feel so powerful. I hold the weapon in my hands, I hold it like my first born son. 

I do not notice the shadows moving on the ground around. I do not notice when the barrel of a gun is raised behind me. I do not feel the bullet enter my back. I simply begin to feel tired, sleepy, yes, pleasantly sleepy. I smile. If this is dying, it isn't that bad. I fix an image of my past, my happy days on the farm back in the Ukraine. It is the last thing I see as I fall, first to my knees, then onto my stomach. Another engineer dies, another gone to help defend the Motherland. And a commander joins his men, finally at peace.


End file.
